Blood and Sand
by MarillaT'Pel
Summary: I don't really know what to say about this except that it contains slash and a sort-of happy ending.  Takes place during different points in the movies.


**I just saw the new movie and absolutely fell in love with this pairing! I was already pretty much there since I've watched lots of videos and read plenty of stories to make up for missing it at the theater. Spoilers for most of the movies. Erik reminices at different points in his life about the choices he's made and actions he's taken. This is the first time I've ventured away from K/S in a while, so please be gentle!**

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><p>Blood and Sand<p>

1962

Erik Lehnsherr found himself in a setting he hadn't seen in quite some time. He sat against the headboard of a simple bed in a simple hotel room. He felt a vague sense of irritation at the room's state, as if it had only been half-heartedly cleaned. Unfortunately, he couldn't afford any to get anything better at this time. Charles had been the one with government funding, and plenty of money of his own in the trust fund/inheritance he'd left neglected until he had all the other mutants depending on him.

Erik snorted softly. Charles had spoiled him quite a bit while they were working together. All the new clothes and other possessions he'd rained down on him were mostly still back at the mansion. He'd had little time to collect anything when he and Raven, now going only by Mystique, had returned while Charles was in the hospital. He'd made sure it was just them. He didn't have a good grasp on Azazel and Riptide yet, and he didn't want them knowing where Charles and the kids lived until his leadership was more firmly established.

He knew he was going to have to do something about money. He knew Shaw had a fortune at his disposal, but he had no way to access it. Azazel and Riptide had no information that would help him with that. Raven still had a trust fund of her own, one that Charles could easily cut her off from, but hadn't. It was the same with the account he'd set up for Erik, in spite of his protests. He was slowly bleeding that account by staying in hotels like this while he gathered information on the world's reaction to mutant-kind. So far, people were afraid and their leaders were trying to reassure them that all would be well. He'd heard similar speeches from officials back before the war, and to anyone with that kind of experience, there was no reassurance to be found.

Erik's own people were back at one of Shaw's mansions, awaiting his return. He knew he couldn't keep going forever with just a couple of accounts and no real income. He also had no desire to resort to common theft to support his followers, which would be growing soon, if he had his way. Right now, it was looking like his best bet was to break out the one person who might have known how to access Shaw's wealth; his right hand, the telepath Emma Frost.

What Erik really needed to do right now was focus on making himself into someone she would be willing to follow, someone she could see the benefit in working with, who she would not double cross at some point down the line. He was keeping the helmet with him at all times now, knowing that there were more telepaths out there. He'd felt more than a little betrayed when Charles had fought him on the beach, trying to remove the helmet so that he could access his mind and protect the humans. It was a line that he had no intention of allowing Charles to cross. Just like the way he would never try to steal from Charles, or use their past to influence the outcome in the war that he knew was coming.

He did feel regret where Charles was concerned. Charles wanted so badly to be accepted in the world, willing to ask humbly rather than actually make it happen, to conform rather than be accepted for what he really was. And it wasn't just the mutation. Erik knew the attraction he felt for Charles, both physically and emotionally, was reciprocated, but Charles seemed to want to play it safe, and would constantly make less-than-subtle overtures to Moira, knowing that as a professional, she would never accept. Erik had never been prone to jealously, but he knew that was what he felt every time Charles was up late working with her. In a world where humans could not accept any kind of perceived abnormality, he knew Charles probably wouldn't risk letting it show that they felt something for each other that was beyond platonic. He could never demonstrate his affection without fear of the consequences from the crowd.

As these thoughts plagued him, he thought back on the day at the beach, when he'd tried one last time to bring Charles over to his way of thinking. They would have been together. Outcasts, yes, but together. But Charles wouldn't accept that. And Erik didn't know why. They way Charles had looked at him on the beach…his eyes seemed so resigned, and there was betrayal there as well. The bullet was an accident, but something in his face told him that they would have been going their separate ways anyway. Was it because he had killed Shaw? Charles may have held out some hope that he wouldn't go through with it, but surely he couldn't be very surprised that he had. If Shaw had done to Charles what he'd done to Erik, he might have felt differently. And as for nearly killing all those soldiers, it was a war. No one apologized for killing in wartime, and he wasn't about to break that tradition. He did realize that it might not have been the best move. Successful battles required a lot of time, strategy, and intel, and he'd acted in the heat of the moment. He needed to be cunning and calculating if he was to be a successful leader to his people.

However, there was one part of him that still needed something. He got up from the bed and grabbed his jacket. He was going to the mansion. It had been over a month; Charles should be back home by now, recovered at least enough to return to his castle. Erik knew he was going to have to leave his old life behind, and for some reason, he wanted a real goodbye with Charles. He owed the man that much after everything he'd done for him. After all, if Charles hadn't stopped his first attempt on Shaw's life, he'd be dead and Shaw would probably still be alive and able to carry out his plans. And while their goals were essentially the same, Erik knew he'd never abuse the power he would gain like Shaw would have. For that, and simply the unconditional friendship Charles had given him, he owed him a proper farewell.

He got into a cab and gave the destination. He was already in New York so the drive was less than an hour. It wasn't too late in the evening yet, and the mansion looked no less impressive in the than the first time he'd seen it. He wondered which room Charles was in. There were several possibilities based on what Erik knew. He might already be in bed, or in the kitchen for a late snack. He might be in the library, or his own private study, reading or drawing plans of his own. He might be in the shower, cleansing himself of the day's events. The thought of that possibility led him back to the moment that had started what should have been the beginning for them.

"_Erik, could you hand me my robe? I think I left it out there." Erik didn't question how Charles knew he was there; Charles could sense the mind of another person the same way he could detect someone's presence by the very fillings of their teeth. He looked around and quickly spotted it. He picked it up and brought it to the door to Charles' bathroom._

"_Here." He called as he held it up to the door. The door opened and pale, damp arm reached out and took it. The door shut, then opened again after a moment and Charles stepped out wearing the robe and toweling his hair off. He smiled pleasantly at Erik._

"_Was there something you wanted?" Charles had a habit of simply plucking general information out of people's minds, things that weren't really all that private. Still, he seemed to know that Erik needed a little restraint from him in that area. Erik just shrugged in response to his question._

"_I wondered if you'd be up for a game, but if you're turning in early…" He trailed off. They had all been working hard. In only a few days, they were going to find and stop Shaw, and if Charles, who'd been a guide to them all in this, needed some extra rest, he would get it. But Charles was already smiling at him._

"_I just wanted to wash off after working out. I'll gladly take a game." They spent the next two hours playing chess and talking about nothing particularly important. It was as if they were both in silent agreement to not discuss the upcoming events at this moment. At one point, they were both laughing about something silly from Charles' childhood, and Erik took a moment to study him._

_He knew they'd been dancing around the attraction they felt for each other since they'd met. Sometimes it seemed like nothing would ever come of it. He'd almost slept with Raven that night she'd turned up in his bed because it was the closest he'd ever get. But now, seeing Charles' full pink mouth curled up in laughter, his clear blue eyes alight with it, his hair mussed from being towel-dried, and his flawless pale skin covered by nothing but the dark blue terrycloth robe, Erik couldn't resist anymore. They could both die when they faced Shaw, and he didn't want to go without letting Charles know how he really felt. He stood up abruptly and moved around the chess board to sit next to Charles on the couch. Charles looked at him questioningly, but before he could say anything Erik leaned forward, pulling Charles forward as well as he leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips._

_He leaned back briefly to look in to Charles' eyes, just to make sure there was no anger or disgust in them. There was surprise for sure, but neither of those bad things. Encouraged, Erik leaned forward and kissed Charles again. He felt his heart leap when Charles tentatively responded. Encouraged, he began to kiss more aggressively. Charles responded eagerly and Erik threw caution to the wind and began to push him down on the couch. He reached one hand inside the robe and stoked Charles bare chest…only to be pushed back._

"_Charles?" He said questioningly. Charles sat up, shaking his head._

"_We can't do this now, Erik." He pulled his robe more tightly closed as he sat up._

"_Why?" Asked Erik. "We both want it, and I know we care for each other. Nothing would change."_

"_Everything would change." Replied Charles quietly. "Being who I am, I've never had to go into a relationship blind, but I've never done this with someone I already cared for as much as you." Erik felt a brief moment of triumph at hearing confirmation that his feelings were reciprocated. Charles continued. "We're going on a mission in three days with no idea how it will turn out. We've already had one person killed, and another betray us. I don't want to do this while there's so much fear and uncertainty. Neither of us can afford to be distracted."_

"_One of us could die. Or both of us." Argued Erik. "Do you want to risk passing up this opportunity knowing that?" Charles sighed and took Erik's hand in his._

"_For me, it gives me something to look forward to. Something to fight all the harder for. I'm sorry if that doesn't make sense to you, but I truly believe that it's for the best." Erik knew Charles was right. Doing this now would be like accepting death; it would be better for things to slow down until after the confrontation. It would give them another reason to succeed. He leaned forward and kissed him chastely one more time._

"_You're right." He whispered._

Erik mentally shook off the memory. There had been no after. He had gone ahead and killed Shaw, betraying Charles' ideals. And if there had been any possibility of forgiveness, that had been destroyed by the fight between them and the accident that followed it. Charles had warned him, all of them, that innocent people could get hurt if they allowed themselves to be caught up in anger and use their powers without thought. Erik hadn't paid attention to where he was knocking the bullets, and as a result, basically shot his first and only real friend in the back. Though he'd seen no blame for it in Charles' eyes, he'd known it was time for them to part. Raven had almost stayed, and it was something Erik could forgive her for since Charles had done so much for her too. She'd truly wanted to come with him though, and Charles had given his sad blessing.

Erik was rapidly becoming lost in memories again when a choked sound behind him made him whip around. It was Moira MacTaggart standing in a doorway. For a moment he thought she was going to scream, to call out for help, but she just stepped out and shut the door behind her.

"What the Hell are you doing here!" She hissed, as if worried someone was listening. Erik looked at her disdainfully.

"I came to speak with Charles." He said coolly. "If you'll excuse me-"

"He's not here, and even if he was I wouldn't let you near him!" She snapped, stepping back toward the doorway, as if she could prevent him from entering just by standing there. "You've done more than enough damage with him." That gave Erik a little pause, but he pushed past it. There was no way he was going to hesitate in front of a mere human.

"He knew it was an accident." The both knew what he was referring to. "He doesn't blame me, and you know it. Are you afraid that now that it's over and forgotton he'll realize I'm right and turn against you?" Moira was shaking with fury by the time he finished speaking.

"You have no idea what you've done, do you?" Without waiting for an answer from him, she continued on. "He loved you, you know. I mean, really loved you. He was crazy about you. I thought maybe there was something between us, but every time we were working alone together, all he could talk about was how brilliant you are, how strong, and how much potential you have. He would have done just about anything for you if you'd at least considered that you might be wrong. Instead you tried to start another war and threw him away in the process. Now that he knows what you're capable of, the pain you can willingly inflict on someone, he won't trust you again." Now Erik was angry, and it was taking a great deal of effort to not lash out at her.

"He understands why I did it. He may not agree, but he understands." He paused to take a steadying breath. "As for the injury, and what I did to Shaw, I know he'll forgive me for it if he hasn't already. Charles is strong and smart. He'll heal and move on. He'll as good as forget it. Maybe he'll even see that I'm right and unite with me against your kind." If Moira was at all frightened by what he was implying, she didn't show it.

"He's never going to forget. First of all, he was still holding Shaw while you killed him. He felt everything, if the way he was screaming was anything to go by. He only held on because he knew Shaw would kill you if he got loose. I guess he figured he could live with helping you kill someone, but not with letting you die. And second, you left him a permanent reminder of what happened." His confusion must have shown, because she kept speaking. "That bullet hit him in the spine. He's never going to be able to walk again." Erik felt his entire being go numb. It couldn't be true. She had to be lying in order to trick him into leaving without speaking to Charles. Before he could accuse her, threaten her, do anything to try and force the truth out, her shoulders slumped and she shook her head.

"I know he'd be upset if I even tried to do anything to you. He still loves you, even though you're his enemy now."

"I'm fighting for our rights as superior beings." He retorted without thinking. She snorted and shook her head.

"Your mother wasn't a mutant, was she? She was as human as I am. You killed one of your own kind, a man who had the exact same vision as you, over her. If it had been someone, anyone that you didn't care about, you'd probably be fighting for him right now. Face it, you two are practically the same person." She looked sad now. "Maybe someday you'll find yourself being chased by someone whose mother you killed." Erik felt a wave of rage roll through him at the fact that she would dare say such a thing to him, but before he could harness it and lash out at her, she turned away. "I have to pick Charles up from physical therapy. Don't be here when we get back; it'll just break his heart all over when he has to watch you leave again." She walked right past him to a car, got in, and drove away.

He almost took her advice and left. Then he remembered that there was no way he'd ever take an order from a mere Homo Sapien. Instead, he used the bits of metal on his person to rise up to where he knew Charles' room was. He was shocked by what he saw inside, or rather what he didn't see. It was clear someone was doing a lot of work on the room. He was able to see into the bathroom as well, and could tell that it was in the middle of being remodeled. Rails had been added to the bed. The couches and table they'd played chess on were gone, making the room easier to maneuver around. The whole room was being made 'handicap accessible'. He felt a sick feeling in his gut. It was true. He'd crippled his friend. But it was an accident. Surely Charles could still come around to his way of thinking. He lowered himself to the ground and put his helmet on. He made his way over to some shrubbery and waited for the car to return.

When it did over an hour later, it was nearly dark. Hank emerged from the house and pulled something out of the trunk and unfolded it on the ground. Erik's heart lurched as he realized what it was; a wheelchair. His heart lurched again when Moira opened the passenger door and she and Hank both pulled Charles out of the car and put him in the chair. He looked alright from a distance. He was even smiling, though he looked somewhat tired. Hank wheeled him into the mansion, and Erik had to fight the urge to run after him. He needed to be patient.

Another three hours later, when he was sure everyone would be asleep, he floated up to Charles' window again. He easily commanded the metal latches to open and climbed inside. In spite of the disarray, Charles was sleeping comfortably in his bed. Erik was stunned by how much thinner he was. Charles had always been diligent in his exercise routine, and without it he seemed to be wasting away.

Erik slowly approached and reached out to touch Charles' shoulder…and stopped. He caught sight of the wheelchair sitting next to the bed. In that moment, he knew that Charles wouldn't hold what happened against him. But that didn't change the fact that they would never again be on the same side. Charles' was too full of unrealistic hope, wanting to see the best in everyone. He hadn't seen the kind of horrors that humans were capable of performing, on each other or people they were actually threatened by.

As much as it pained him to admit it, even just to himself, Moira had been right. It would only hurt Charles' to have him try to convince him of the truth and then have to walk away again. Before he left though, there was one thing he had to do. He finished his approach to the bed and pulled off the helmet. He leaned down and ever so gently pressed his lips to Charles'.

"Goodbye Charles." He whispered. He turned back to the window.

_Goodbye Erik_. He couldn't tell if the words were spoken in his mind, whispered aloud, or simply his own wishful thinking. He never looked back to find out. Instead, he hardened his heart once again, went out the window, and was gone.

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><p>2006<p>

Erik sat in front of a chessboard in the park. He now had all the time in the world to process everything. And not just what had happened recently, but everything in the past several decades. Charles was dead. He'd been killed by one of best students, Jean Grey. Erik was having trouble actually wrapping his mind around that fact. His mind traveled back to the early days after they'd parted.

The first thing he'd done was get Emma Frost out of the CIA's holding area. He hadn't been lying when he said Charles' absence left a gap in his life. He knew Frost could never actually fill that gap. He'd remained on his guard the whole time with her. He knew as soon as soon as she got a better offer, she'd turn against him, and that had eventually happened. She'd sold out her own kind in an attempt to join with a man named Stryker in order to avoid becoming a lab rat and instead become an ally. She'd paid for her treachery with her life.

Erik had continued to bury his emotions and become a soldier to his cause. He became Magneto. Magneto had no person opinions, no real needs or desires. Magneto only thought about his goals and how to make them happen.

Eventually, all his original team members were gone, except for Mystique. She continued to fight for the cause, her slow aging allowing her to remain very active. She was the only one, except for Charles, who continued to call him Erik every now and then. Charles had also lost members of his team. Hank was still alive, but he was a politician now. Moira's memory had been erased. Charles had made it so she had no chance of revealing where he, his students, and even Erik could be.

He and Charles ran into each other every once in a while. He noticed every time Charles got a new wheelchair, and as his hair prematurely thinned and disappeared. One change that was almost immediate was that Charles no longer spent his free time the same way. Where there was once a seemingly carefree young man who like getting drunk as much as the next college guy, there was a quietly dignified scientist and professor. Erik read many articles he published and eventually began seeing news reports featuring Charles' discoveries on mutation, all done in an attempt to educate mankind about how mutants were just people like them who were different through no choice of their own.

Erik had also turned to science later in the war. The machine he'd made to turn humans into mutants was supposed to change everything for the better. He'd meant what he said to Charles about them being the future, and he meant to make that future happen now. He'd considered it worth the lines he'd crossed, things that he'd once thought he'd never do; forcing Charles' hand by threatening to shoot an army of policemen, nearly killing him with Mystique's help, and nearly sacrificing a child so that he could remain to lead the new mutants. Their interactions in the plastic prison he'd been put in for his trouble showed him that Charles was no longer as soft as he'd thought him in the past. Yes, he still hoped for equality, but he was under no illusions that there were few to no lines left to protect them from each other.

In the following months he'd waited for his opportunity to come. He hadn't anticipated William Stryker possessing a mind control drug taken from his own son's brain. He'd been forced to tell him everything about the school, things he'd vowed to never tell anyone. He'd known that even if he and Charles were on opposing sides, Charles was doing a good thing by teaching youngsters to be aware of their abilities, and not afraid of them.

"_I'm sorry_." He'd said when he told Charles. He hadn't said that to him, or anyone, since that day on the beach. Charles really should have killed him if he wanted to keep his school safe. Erik knew there was a chance Charles could die when he sent Mystique to sabotage Cerebro. Charles needed to be willing to do the same if he truly wished to win this war. Erik once again used and manipulated Charles as he realized there might be some merit to Stryker's plan to simply kill all his enemies at once. He knew Charles would be devastated when he was released from the illusion to learn that he had killed all the people he'd been fighting to protect. Of course, Jason might just keep him trapped in his mind until he died.

He'd said goodbye to his old friend again, something else he hadn't said to Charles in decades. He'd truly never expected to see Charles again. But Charles' students had come for him, and he'd once again returned to his mansion, leaving Erik to break in a new follower.

After the discovery of the so-called cure that so many ashamed mutants had been searching years for, Erik knew it was time to really fight. Mystique had been captured, unfortunately, but he'd found someone who could help him find her. He'd picked up two more followers, but lost the one he'd come for. Mystique had taken a shot of the cure meant for him and had been stripped, quite literally, or her mutation.

At that moment, Moira MacTaggart's words about his mother came back to him. He hadn't thought of her in years, only once recalling her after learning that she had left the CIA to become a doctor. He could show no human any mercy, even if that human had once been a mutant more devoted to him than any other. She wasn't one of them anymore. He said as much and left her behind. He supposed he couldn't blame her for trying to give him up to the government. Perhaps he'd been too successful at becoming a soldier and leader, because he felt no guilt or regret in leaving her behind.

It had taken the death of his old friend to shake his hard-won composure. He and Charles had both gone after Jean Grey, Charles in the hopes of reigning in her power, and Erik with the intention of harnessing it. He'd watched, unable to move, unable to do anything except shout at Jean to stop as Charles was lifted from his chair. He saw his old friend, the only person he'd ever been in love with, smile in that kind, reassuring at his student, the Wolverine, who was also trying to get to them.

"Charles!" He shouted right before his friend was ripped apart by his very atoms. As the ruined house fell back to the ground, Erik let his soldier's discipline take over. He acquired the asset he came for, looking only briefly at the empty chair where his friend had sat. He couldn't afford to be sad now. He couldn't afford to hate Jean for killing Charles because she was too important as a weapon. He couldn't afford to feel.

But then it had all gone to Hell. His army had been taken down by the human's cure and Charles' X-Men. Now, he sat in the park, along with several other people from the shelter for the homeless and mentally ill. It wasn't too hard to pass himself off as one or the other. Now, he had plenty of time to think about everything.

Before, he'd simply pushed aside feelings because they were inconvenient at the time. Now, he pondered a world without Charles Xavier. Even though he'd seen it happen with his own eyes, he couldn't quite grasp the fact that he was dead. There had always been parts of him, buried under logic and necessity, that thought that maybe he and Charles would always be together in some way or another. Even if they both lost all their followers and supporters, they would both still be there, battling to determine the fate of humanity with a game of chess. Even if he had to destroy any mutants who stood in his way, Charles would still be there to fight him. Or perhaps he even hoped (yes, hoped) that there would come a day when Charles would see that he was right about the humans and join him again. That would never happen now.

He briefly touched the glass bottle he kept in his coat pocket at all times. It held a metal ship inside, and something else as well. He'd never told anyone that after he'd left the mansion, he'd gone back to the beach where he and Charles had parted ways and found the bullet that had crippled Charles. It wasn't hard to find; different metals registered differently to him, and for a handful of seconds that tiny piece of lead had been his whole world as he removed it from under his friend's skin. He'd be able to sense it anywhere. He'd found it and placed it inside the bottle, which Charles had given to him as a birthday gift. The bottle was meant to hold the model ship, the parts of which were all made of metal. Charles had ordered it custom made, something for Erik to enjoy and practice with at the same time.

He'd put the ship together inside the bottle, and placed the bullet in with it like some kind of misshapen cannon ball. It had been sealed since that day, and still had a coating of dried blood and sand on it. He would see that bloody sand in his dreams at night, and wake up with the ship on his bedside table, the bullet in plain sight to him. It was now the only physical thing Erik had of Charles. He'd never cared about having such a thing before because Charles had always been alive somewhere. Now he could no longer sense the metal ship, or the bullet with it. Nor did he have the security of knowing Charles was safe in his mansion. He couldn't tell what made him feel more bereft; the loss of his power, or knowledge that Charles no longer existed in this world.

He spent weeks after the battle at Alcatraz in the halfway house, trying to think of just what he could do now that he was alone and powerless. He could think of no options. Then he had an accident. He'd simply been walking along the hall of the home when one of its many deranged occupants came out of nowhere and swung at him with a chair, screaming that he was the devil. The next thing he knew, he was in a hospital bed with a terrible headache. The sound of a voice caught his attention. The voice itself wasn't familiar, but something about the accent and other mannerisms made him want to focus on it. He opened his eyes to see a doctor and a middle aged man in casual dress talking. The doctor looked at him and smiled.

"Ah, Mr. Lehnsherr, I was just explaining the situation to your nephew." Erik wanted to reply, say that he'd never had any nephews. Instead, he just looked at the man. He was average looking, the kind of face that would blend in perfectly with a crowd of other average people, and though Erik was certain he'd never met him before, there was something almost disturbingly familiar about him.

"Erik." Said the man warmly. "They'll be releasing you in just a few days. I told them I'll be taking you home after you're discharged. After you're fully recovered, you can stay with me, or go somewhere else if you wish. For now, Moira and I will take you home."

_Moira?_ Thought Erik. And just like that, it all fell into place. The things he just couldn't help but recognize. "Charles." He breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. How could it be possible? The stranger's face smiled in a familiar way. "I thought I was alone." That was all he could think of to say. He saw Charles' new eyes light up in recollection of their first meeting.

"You're not alone."

And Erik knew it was true. He didn't know what would happen. He didn't know what the world would do with all the people who had been mutants, or the ones that still were. He didn't know what would happen with him and Charles, if this was a second chance or just a temporary truce. He didn't even know where he stood on his views anymore. But one thing was wonderfully clear; Charles was alive, and they were together, at least for the time being.

For the first time in a long time, Erik really allowed himself to hope. As he drifted off again aided by drugs and relief, he was no longer plagued with thoughts of blood and sand, just happy blue eyes and a joyful laugh.

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><p><strong>Sue me, but I had to give this some kind of happy ending. Erik doesn't have his powers back yet because I didn't want to get into that now. This story already turned out twice as long as I meant it to be. Originally, it was just supposed to be a scene after or toward the end of the movie, but it spun out of control. I started thinking about Ian McKellen's portrayal of Magneto vs Michael Fassbender's, and how the character might have changed over the years. I know it's kind of scattered, and my ending is kind of lame, but I'm just not good at those. Maybe I'll revise it sometime later on.<strong>

**I also wanted to try and connect the movies a bit. Even though the writers did that with a couple comments and cameos, they still had a lot of inconsistencies. Like the fact that **_**Dr**_**. MacTaggart is probably not as old as she should be based on First Class, and clearly speaks with a Scottish accent. But oh well.**

**I rented First Class a second time so I could watch it over and over for inspiration. I also watched the trilogy for the same reason. I hope this was enjoyed. I haven't had a lot of luck with non-Star Trek stuff, but I'm making an effort because I haven't posted in a while and none of my new K/S stuff is ready yet.**


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